Crooks Body Bio Journal

Eyes: How does the character see himself, and how do other characters view him? I wonder if this is all they see me as. Black. Broken. Sometimes I even see myself as  "... a nigger ... a busted-back nigger."  Sometimes I feel that way, and sometimes I feel like I'm the only one with any sense around here. I guess if I had sense, I wouldn't be here though. 

Ears: What do other characters say about this character and WHY? "Yes sir. Jesus, we had fun. They let the nigger come in that night. Little skinner name of Smitty took after the nigger. Done pretty good, too. The guys wouldn't let him use his feet, so the nigger got him. If he coulda used his feet, Smitty says he woulda killed the nigger. The guys said on account of the nigger's got a crooked back, Smitty can't use his feet."  I walked by Candy telling the new guys about that awful Christmas. I don't understand. Sometimes Candy speaks so highly of me, and then he tells this story with glee. I don't understand these people. 

  Mouth: Your favorite quote from the character with a short explanation as to WHY this is your favorite quote.  "I seen hunderds of men come by on the road an’ on the ranches, with their bindles on their back an’ that same damn thing in their heads. Hunderds of them. They come, an’ they quit an’ go on; an’ every damn one of ‘em’s got a little piece of land in his head/ An’ never a God damn one of ‘em ever gets it. Just like heaven. Ever’body wants a little piece of lan’. I read plenty of books out here. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets no land. It’s just in their head. They’re all the time talkin’ about it, but it’s jus’ in their head." This is how I feel about all those with dreams. 

  Shoulders: What are the burdens that this character must carry? Life on the ranch can be such a burden. I constantly face racism and isolation, but at the same time, I embrace those things. I cannot let them bother me, but they do. Certain things dredge up these feelings in me. Today I was walking by the bunkhouse, and I heard Candy talking to the two new guys. I heard him say  "Ya see the stable buck's a nigger...  Nice fella too. Got a crooked back where a horse kicked him. The boss gives him hell when he's mad. But the stable buck don't give a damn about that. He reads a lot. Got books in his room." That killed me. He called me nigger just like they all do, but then he compliments me on my reading and my ability to withstand the boss' wrath. I don't know what to make of these men.  I hate that he mentioned my back. The racism isn't enough. They have to bring my crooked back into this too. It is as if the weight of all of this is only makin...

  Hands:  What ideas does this character embrace? What ideas does the character push away? I embrace my solitude. I am still bothered about the day the big, childish one came into my room. I am not allowed in their bunkhouse, yet he comes in and invades my space so casually! This is unfair. If they want segregation, they will have it, but it must be complete! None of this double standard. I enjoy my space and the world I create. How dare he come and try to invade my world. He is not part of it. My world is me, my books, my solitude. I do not want to spend time with that Lennie. He talks to me like he doesn't understand my position. He intrigues me, yet he represents everything I have spent my life steeling against. I mock him-- I know he is weak, so I torture him. I push him away knowing well that he is damaged and doesn't understand this world. What is wrong with me?

Feet:  What principles does this character stand on? What values are important to this character? My back is crooked, but one thing I know for sure is that I stand on my two feet. They may call me crooks, but they are the crooks. They the are thieves. This whole world consists of thieves and crooked people. But I wonder sometimes. Am I wrong? Is my view of this world crooked, and demented? No. I know myself and I know what I stand for. I stand for myself. I stand for knowledge, learning, and solitude. I will not let fear and self pity stand in my way. 

Stomach:  What things (not food) sustain this character? What does he hunger for? What is this character seeking to know? Today was a rough day. It was Christmas, and the Boss invited me into the bunkhouse for the first time. I had a brief moment of surprise and hope. Were things changing? How could I be so stupid! They made a fool of me! They made me fight one of the other ranch hands. To add insult, he wasn't allowed to use his hands to make him "even" with me because of my crooked back! A back that became crooked because I slave away for them! I will not allow myself to be fooled in this we again! I shall keep my focus on the things that I know really matter to me:  my books, my knowledge, my imagination. I will retreat even further into myself to protect myself from this world. My books are my only source of comfort and hope. 

Heart: What are the things that are most important to the character? What does he hold closest to his heart? The big dumb one came into my room today. I swear I have never seen one so thick and dense as that man. He is more of a child than a man, and I couldn' help but tease him.  I pride myself on my sense, my attention to the hard realities of this world. I am no fool. I know my lot. I know that life is misery. He thinks he is going to buy a ranch with that man whom he follows like a puppy. " I seen hunderds of men come by on the road an’ on the ranches, with their bindles on their back an’ that same damn thing in their heads. Hunderds of them. They come, an’ they quit an’ go on; an’ every damn one of ‘em’s got a little piece of land in his head. An’ never a God damn one of ‘em ever gets it. Just like heaven. Ever’body wants a little piece of lan’. I read plenty of books out here. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets no land. It’s just in their head. Th...

1.         Brain: What does the character think about? What are his goals, aspirations, or dreams? Sometimes I wonder if the men on the ranch realize that their lives are just as lonely and miserable as my live is. They force me to live out in the stable house and call me "nigger", but what do they really have? They have nothing. They are lonely, miserable, illiterate fools. At least I have my books. I can escape into that world. Their lives consist of the fields, card games, booze, and the cat house. If that is what their privilege buys them, then I do not want to buy in.  But then I get angry! If I were one of them, I would not even be here! My knowledge and my experiences would pull me to the grandest heights! Instead I am here, lower than low. I remember my childhood.  "I was born right here in Southern California. My old man had a chicken ranch, ‘bout ten acres. The white kids come to play at our place, an’ sometimes I went ...